Ribbons of Red
by Espantalho
Summary: The sort of prequel to Sorry's Always Hard to Say, in which the reason for the attempted suicide mentioned in that story is explained. Warren's POV. Rated T for slight language and themes.
1. Chapter 1

Ribbons of Red

_A/N: This is in some ways the prequel to "Sorry's Always Hard to Say". It happens before that story, at any rate. Rated T for some slight language and themes. "Misery Me" belongs to the Streetlamp Band._

_Every day's a tragedy, like_

_Raindrops on my walls_

_My own life is haunting me and_

_I got nowhere to fall_

Exultant laughter bursts from my lungs like a song as I hold up my arms, palms up, under my creation. Forging things out of fire has never really been a talent of mine, and for years I've toiled to get it right. Now this twisting monolith of a beast above me pays tribute to those long nights of staring at candles, willing them to move, determining their movements, their properties, their shapes and desires. My desires.

Dimly I can hear screaming from the students in the stands around me, but they're not important. The boy facing me on the other side of the rink has lost his cockiness, his resolve. He thought changing my personal gravity was going to keep me down and out of this fight. He thought he had it made. He has to learn, not all things are mortal; not all things are muscle and bone. Suddenly, Boomer's voice hits me like a train and I'm snapped out of my reverie.

"Hothead! Hit the showers!" What the hell. I didn't do anything wrong. Grumbling, I wave my hand at the dragon and he disappears, leaving no small amount of black smoke behind him. The fire alarms sound in a panic behind me. The students panic along with it.

_Faded gray defines me_

_Patchwork-covered shame_

_And if I was a painting_

_I swear I'd be the same_

People didn't use to cross to the other side of the hallway when they see me walking along behind them. They collide with other students going the opposite way in their haste to get away from me. I feel a small bump at my elbow and glance over to see what made it. The boy who'd been standing at his locker mouths wordlessly in terror. He thinks I'm going to maim him right here. I look back at the ground as I walk away. Glancing back, I see that the kid is now sitting down and being comforted by some of his friends.

I never wanted this. The police were bad enough, dogging my steps, hauling me in for questioning every time some drunk managed to burn his own house down in the Ramps. They know my car, they watch me night and day. Now in school, where I can finally be free of them, I inspire even more dread among the students. To be fair, the teachers don't bother me much. The only thing that bothers me is that I bother all of these others.

But now even the teachers watch me, whispering behind their hands, moving back into their doorways as I pass them. Moving back in time. I never wanted to be like my father but it seems I have no choice.

_Turn out the light_

_Let in the night_

_I know these words will take me_

_From the cradle to the grave_

There's darkness twisting in my veins. It scares me. It takes control when I'm not actively forcing it back, like when I formed the beast in gym class. In the heat of the moment, something reared its head in me and bayed cruel laughter through my own throat. This was my father's power. This is my father speaking.

_My face is sharp and angled_

_Like a broken ceramic doll_

_My puppeteer is laughing as_

_I stumble and I crawl_

My father. How I hate you. I barely look into the mirror anymore because I see you so much in me. I might as well just tape up the old news articles and look into those instead. How do I look today? Well, just like you, it seems.

Layla understands that part, at least, but she's the only one. Everyone else thinks I'm letting myself go because I just don't care. She's taken to grabbing my head and running a brush through my hair every day at lunch. The nicest gestures are meaningless.

_Hunt me down _

_Make me bleed_

_Misery, misery, misery _

_Me._

Yesterday, a boy wielded a crucifix necklace at me as I passed. What, does he think I'm the devil? Or a vampire? I just gave him a weird look and kept on going, but it gave me something to think about.

Lord, if I could have one wish, it would be for my life to change completely. Give me Will Stronghold's life, please? Why can't I be like him? Why can't I come home to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and have a great girlfriend and millions of friends. All the friends that I could wish for. And his father, a little dumb, but caring. What I would give for a few moments of father to son talk, for a minute of arm wrestling.

Wishful thinking, all. The bell rings and though the hallways are rampant with students, somehow the way before me is completely clear. It's the same way in the parking lot. Everyone knows my tan, bombed-out boat of a car. 1989 Chevy Caprice. I built the rocket engines myself. Sure as hell didn't come standard. Yeah, all of these kids have money coming from their parent's ears to buy a beautiful black chromed Mustang with dual-engine capabilities, but they learned not to laugh at my car long ago.

Home is never easy to go to. All I do is sleep there. All I do is sleep anywhere. As I pass the bathroom I catch a sight of myself in the mirror. I go back and look, really look. God, who is this person? The vertical white scar on my right cheek, the accusing eyes, the lank black hair. The kid was right to wave his crucifix around. The devil really does walk the halls of Sky High.

_And if all the world's a stage_

_And if all I need's a sage_

_Knock on my door, knock on my door_

_It really don't matter anymore_

It doesn't matter anymore. I don't really want to try. There's no charity for the damned sons of super villains. Even when I helped save the school last year, no one applauded or wrote massive newspaper articles about me, like they did for Will and Layla, even Ethan and Magenta and Zach. But Warren Peace does not exist. He waits, stagnant and congealed, apparently with his own agenda. He has no motivations other than world domination. Let the flashing bulbs of those cameras fall on the golden boys. Warren Peace will fall back into the shadows, where everyone expects him to be. Fall back into my rotted pit of stone. It's a beautiful blade I hold, three inches and black-hilted, both magnificent and grotesque.

The telephone rings and I hazily stand, slipping on the drowned floor. The blade floats in the toilet bowl, ribbons of red encircling it like a mother's loving arms. Stained handprints on the seat of the toilet, the blood thick and salty, encrusted. It's not the blood of a hero.

"Hello?" I say muzzily into the receiver.

"Warrrrrrrren?" The voice is elongated as it passes through my brain. I put a hand to my head and realize that I've got the floor and the wall all bloody. It's Layla. She says something else but it turns into the faint, droning buzz of a mosquito. The receiver drops from my hand, dangling from its cord as I slide to the floor. The mosquito's buzzing intensifies in pitch and volume but I crawl back to the bathroom on my hands and knees. The peeling tiles scratch at my hands as I vomit into the bathtub and then lay back down against the floor.

_Turn out the light_

_Let in the night_

_I know these cards will take me_

_From the cradle to the grave_

That had better not be an ambulance I hear. Dammit, Layla.

_From the cradle to the grave._

The End.

_A/N: I don't understand why I can't get this thing to indent, heh. Well, anyway...not my best work. I may have to go back and re-do this but I wanted to try and get it out there before I forgot it! Thanks to all of you lovely reviewers who've been checking out my other stories, you really make my day!_


	2. Ribbon loves Reviews!

Wow, check out all these reviews! You guys are awesome!

Regarding sequel stuff: I'm working on it right now (well, not right now as I'm writing to you, but you know what I mean) and it's coming along vaguely. It's hard trying to keep him in character. Anyways, it's called "Keep on Trucking" and it's going to be more uplifting than the past two stories have been. You guys rock so much! Thank you!

Kenzimone: Thanks hon! I appreciate comments on the small touches cause I was afraid they were going to detract from the story as a whole! No worries, a sequel's coming soon (I hope)! Thanks for always jumping on my stories, I love that!

Goddess Artemis: Wow, what a compliment! Thanks so much! This is probably just a one-shot deal so probably no second chapter to this story. But! There will be more stuff soon, I promise. As for someone finding him, well the ambulance is there so they've definitely found him by now. Thanks so much for your constant reviewing!

WarrinPeace: Aww! (Big blushing) You are so sweet! Get going on your fics as well, I love "My Biggest Fear"!

Riderazzo: Hey! Thanks a lot! Yeah, I'm not much for length, am I? Most of my stories tend to be one-shots. If I were going to add chapters to this story, it would definitely be from one of the other kid's viewpoints, trying to cope with the fact that their friend was suicidal. If I get to it, I'll definitely let you know! Thanks!

Abuhin: OMG blushing so hard. What a great comment! Thanks so much and I'll try to keep him in character!

SimpleNClean92: Hey, thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed them! Sequel's sort of plugging along, but it'll probably be up soon. Thanks so much!

Phantomofthemusical: THANK YOU! I love hearing that people like my stories! Layla won't be coming over to his house because he's getting carted away by the ambulance right now, but no worries! If I write more on this story, it'll be from her perspective probably. You rock!

Lady Cela: You are always making my day! Thanks so much! (erases author's note)

Succumb: I DEFINITELY know what you mean. I was sitting there staring at the computer and trying to figure out whether or not I should have Warren attempt suicide in this story or not. It seems a bit out of character because the people that I know that even come close to his situation are the ones who plug away the most. That's what the theme of "Keep on Trucking" is going to be; about keeping on when the way is rough. I wanted him to have this moment of sheer insecurity for me to build on later. Plus, the fact that I'd already hinted at it in "Sorry's Always Hard To Say" (something I sincerely regret) made it kind of hard for me to get out of the situation. The next one will be more upbeat, I promise! Thanks so much for commenting on the first-person thing because I tend to shirk at that stuff as well!

Silver-midnite: Thanks so much! I agree, his character is very versatile and you can put the poor thing through just about anything (a privilege I'm really trying to take advantage of…putting him in sweet, uplifting, and angsty situations all). Sequel's on it's way, thanks so much for reviewing!

Stargazingirl: Wow, thank you! I agree that the more normal, grittier world gets overlooked not only in superhero fanfictions but in most stories altogether, so that's what I was sort of getting at; I love you for catching it! And oh yes, he's cute ;) Thanks hon!

Un jour or l'autre: Yay! Thanks so much! I'm glad you think it's all those things  Dynamics are really important in fanfiction so it's awesome that you like seeing it! I'll try not to make him too complicated (well, there's only so much you can do with a Disney character, after all…or is there?). Thanks so much!

Yucina101 Thank you! I don't know if people really do THIS to each other (the premise is a bit ridiculous: A supervillain father and deceased mother). Technically Warren would be in foster care or at a children's hall, but it didn't serve my purposes. But yes, to a degree, this stuff happens. People shirk other people in hallways for no real reason, and make fun of each other, and judge each other without cause, which is sort of what I was going for in this story. Thanks so much, I love you!

Victoria Wolf ;) Maybe the ambulance fixed him up. I agree that it might be nice if Warren's father showed up. Maybe one day I'll do a fic between the two of them. I think for this story the dad will stay out of the picture for now, though. Haha, what do you mean, "the stupid stuff"? Just kidding ;). Yay! Someone commented on the song. It's definitely not our best lyrics, but the Streetlamp Band thanks you from the bottom of our hearts ;).


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